The Last Crusade
by Cavalyn
Summary: AU Story. With Padawan Shan's battle meditation ability having manifested. She is given to the only Master they feel can train her abundant talents. The youngest Jedi Knight. Knight Revan. Much to both of their dismay, as their personalities clash!
1. Answers

So this will be a little strange. I have effectively not read any of the comics, or books, I dislike most of the Star Wars movies, and please do not feel the need to convert me, it's just a preference. But I did like the Kotor game, and storyline. So I thought of writing a fanfiction for it.

**This IS an AU, and so will not follow cannon in many ways, please be aware of this. Also there are a few core differences, which I will not explain in the notes, suffice to say, they will happen, and you will be made aware of them in the story. A lot of this will be in a peace setting, but war will occur in time.**

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**Prologue **- _Finale_

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"You cannot win, Revan." Padawan Bastila Shan asserted, her voice loud and powerful, the better to embolden her team mates. Through the glow of her yellow sabre she watched the black cloaked man, his arrogant posture, staring out into the blackness of space. He had not once turned to regard them, even as the Sith defending him were cut down. Yet she did not for a single moment doubt his awareness, like many of his actions. The apparent lack of attention was a carefully concealed trap.

"Brave words, my apprentice." The silky voice responded, the words casting doubt into her which she quickly shrugged off. From the corner of her eye she saw the discomfort on the face of the Jedi beside her. Already he was weakening them, and with such little effort. Despite that, she felt no anger at his words, only a deep sense of disappointment.

"My master no longer, Revan. Nor my mentor, nor my friend. Look at what you have become." A man hidden behind a mask, sending droves of sentient lives to their deaths. Not even upset that his very bodyguards had been cut down as he did nothing. So much sadness welled within her as she looked at him. She wanted to see his face once more, bereft of that mask. Would it have changed? Would he still be the person she remembered so fondly?

Would it be the same?

"Come then child." He urged, igniting his sabre with a hiss as the crimson blade crept forth with an almost mocking lack of speed. "Let us have one... final... lesson." The sabre hummed as he adopted his juyo stance, content to let her attack him. There may have been four of them against him, but she could feel his eyes focused intently on her.

"Very well Revan." She acquiesced, taking a deep breath as she emptied and calmed her mind, feeling a brief flit of irony at following _his_ teachings, before that too was purged and calm descended. _There is no emotion... only peace._ And as the sound around them dimmed, and all awareness focused on only him, she struck.

It was not to be. Their fated clash, her answers. All were denied her at that final moment. A deep flash of light and a blast of sound and fire, throwing her aside like a limp doll. Others landed about her, some never again moving as their bodies hit unrelenting metal. Her thoughts in disarray, and her sense of balance having fled, Bastila pushed herself to her knees and looked about her. Horror and confusion painted across her face. What was this? Had they been struck! How?

Their strike team to capture the Sith Lord Revan, had been a desperate attempt, surely the republic had not then won the battle, and fired upon Revan's flag ship? With them aboard it?

Revan! Her mind snapped into focus as she looked for the threat, somehow not believing he could have been defeated in such an ignoble manner. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him.

_No no no!_ Shamefully she ignored her fellow Jedi, rushing straight to him and kneeling at his side, fighting back the nausea from the movement and rolling him over. The impact had struck him hard, and she could feel him fading, even below her finger tips. She realised with growing horror, that she did not want him to die. Not like this. He had to answer for the crimes he had committed. No. It was not even that. He had to answer, the questions she had for him. And by the Force. He would not die before he had faced her!

Unsure of what she could do, she pushed the Force into him, acting as a conduit between him and that healing energy. Though the loose thoughts she could pick up from his now unguarded mind, were disjointed and confused, at best. The fact that she was getting them at all showed he might still yet live. As the sole surviving Jedi staggered up to them she declared their mission a success.

Lord Revan, Master of the Sith, had been captured. Alive.

And as they bundled him back into their transport and fled from the now drifting ghost ship, she let her mind wander back, and remember how it had all began.

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**Incredibly short, but that's my intent as this is nothing but a prologue. If you haven't guessed it, the main story will effectively be a flashback. Many of the AU elements will become more obvious through it.**

**If you enjoyed it so far, please review, I should be able to update soonish. Following chapters will be much longer in length, worry not.**


	2. Assignment

**So this chapter may shock some people... we shall see. Don't expect me to update this quickly usually, lol.**

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Chapter 1 – Assignment

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Padawan Bastila Shan. She liked the sound of it. It held promise for the future, a suggestion of what was to come. Only a few days ago she had been nothing but a young apprentice, looking up at those above her, and waiting for her chance to be amongst them. And here she was. Thirteen years of age, that bothered her more than she would admit. Many others had become Padawans before her... she had wanted to be the best. Had tried so very hard. Her teachers had not even told her what she was doing wrong. It had always been "not her time," or "a little longer." How was she to better herself without more specific instruction? Her combat forms were good. Not the best, she would admit. But she won more bouts than she lost. She was one of the more intelligent initiates, forgoing her social life, limited as that was for a Jedi, in favour of study and learning.

She hated to admit it, but if it weren't for the master's discovery of her special talent, she might not even be a Padawan now. Battle meditation. The ability to instil confidence in her allies, and lower morale in her opponents. Applicable on a large scale, in theory. It made her special. Needed. Happy.

Her mother had abandoned her to the Jedi when she was still young, and ever since that time she had hated the isolation, the lack of attention. It wasn't selfishness, she had been a child! _There is no emotion... peace..._ She recited the code to calm herself, it didn't actually calm her, but it reminded her to lock the bitterness away.

Today was not a day for bitterness. It was a time for celebration. Or, as much joy as a Jedi was allowed to feel. _There is no passion, there is serenity. _She could not feel pride at her accomplishment, she just had to accept it.

She hated that. But she wasn't allowed to feel hate, either.

Looking in the long mirror in her room, she adjusted her new robes around her body, and inspected herself. The robes were loose on her, to allow her to grow a little into them. Despite being so influential, the Jedi Order was not incredibly wealthy, and they couldn't afford to be wasting equipment. These very robes had likely been worn by another Padawan, once before. Her small nose wrinkled at the thought.

At thirteen, she was just beginning to bloom into true womanhood. She stood at five feet three inches, and was filling out in the most frustrating of places. Her finely sculpted face was set in a small frown, her full lips making it look more like a pout. As was expected of those who became Padawans, she had formed her hair into a braid, two in fact. This would denote to others her rank. But that was not all that would change with new rank. And it was this, which both excited, and worried her, the most.

Today she would be gaining a new master. Likely a Jedi Knight, who would mentor her and take her out on missions. Teaching and training her to become the best Jedi she could. Her entire future could depend on who was chosen. If it was a person who thought ill of her... her entire future could be ruined.

Unbidden, she clutched her robes tightly in one small hand, twisting the fabric in fear. Things would not be so bad. She was certain of this... it was just … her nature, to fear the worst. To worry. Taking a deep breath she let it out and relaxed. The council would not choose to grant her a master who would be detrimental to her progress. She would trust in their wisdom, as she always had.

A loud buzzing sounded within the room, drawing her to a small intercom near the door of her cloister. Her breathing having again quickened to near panic, she rushed over a pushed it.

"App- I mean, Padawan Shan here." She winced at having made a mistake already! How foolish she must sound. She needed to calm down, before she embarrassed herself any further.

"Padawan Shan, the council requests your presence." A young male voice spoke. No doubt a youngling being made to run tasks. She had done similar in her time... she remembered her accent having angered some Padawans of those times...

"Thank you, I will be there as soon as possible." She took another deep breath, fighting the urge to leave right now and rush there. She could not beat the apprentice who was to pass on the message, that would be humiliating. Counting to sixty, she allowed a long minute to pass as she regulated her breathing, before stepping out the door.

The Dantooine enclave... Where she had lived since five years of age. For such a small building, there were a surprising amount of Jedi here, their small rooms closely allocated, and pushed to the side by larger training rooms and eating areas. A few apprentices cleaned the halls as she walked down them, the tasks used to teach humility and discipline. She was secretly glad she was beyond them now.

"Ahh... Padawan Bastila Shan, come." An elderly but strong voice called, sensing her even as she had hesitated outside the council chambers. Taking one last breath she entered, schooling her expression as best she could before the powerful members stood before her. She began to sweat slightly at their stares.

"I have come before the council as requested." She intoned, bowing to show her respect as she swallowed past her nervousness.

"Yes, you have. Indeed." Master Vandar hummed. "Come to meet your master you have." She nodded in agreement. She had already been elevated to the rank of Padawan, and so had experienced the long discussion with the council as to what that meant. Along with many warnings about the dark side, that worried her somewhat.

"Your battle meditation is an unusual, but powerful gift." Master Dorak continued. "It has been a long time since a Jedi showed such a trait, and there are no living practitioners who might help you. Nor is their recorded knowledge on how to improve your control." For a moment she feared they were about to suggest she not pursue that skill, her only ace to be taken away from her. But Master Zhar quickly alleviated her concern.

"That said, we feel you need a master who might best be able to aid you in your search for answers. The ability you posses, obviously has its roots in warfare... and you would be an _incredible_ target to our enemies." They didn't mention the dark side, but she could tell they worried about it... She felt both hurt and ashamed that they would think she could fall. Hurt at the lack of faith. Ashamed that she might have done something to warrant it.

"We have decided, therefore." Master Vrook now cut in. "To give you to a master who specialises in warfare and battle. Both in physical combat, and strategy. No doubt he might even be able to improve your sabre form." A he? There shouldn't be anything wrong with having a male master, but a knot of concern still appeared in her stomach. And trust Master Vrook to fit in a nasty comment about her skills with the lightsabre...

"Enter, Knight Revan." She stiffened at the words. She did not recognise the name, and for that, a small chill of disappointment stirred within her. But she turned to regard her new Master regardless. Her grey eyes widened.

He was _young_. Very young. He looked not to be too much older than herself... well... probably around eighteen or nineteen, but still! She had expected a Knight who was approaching his thirties, not such an attractive man! Wait, what? Her mind froze in horror as she replayed that thought. No, she did not find him attractive.

So he was tall, much taller than her, with a stature that screamed powerful. Broad shoulders and gently muscled arms, not like those who worked with heavy lifting, but the toned strength of a coiled spring. His lithe figure and long legs, even the way he moved. Like he considered every step, measured everything. It were as though he was restraining himself, forcing himself to move at the same speed as everyone else.

His face was stonier than she had expected. Perhaps she had spent so long around the gentle Masters on the council, or with those who taught young children. This, Revan... his eyes were hard chips of dark blue ice, and his face was chiselled from rock. A light dusting of stubble as around his mouth, but it only served to make the contours of his face so much more obvious. His dark brown hair was drawn back into a single ponytail, trailing down the back of his neck.

He was undeniably handsome. And she hated herself for admitting it. To her mortification she found herself blushing as she bowed to him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Revan." Though the term "master" was incorrect to a Knight, it was the term of respect used by Padawan's to their specific teacher. She wanted to make a good impression on him. And despite only just meeting him, she wanted to make him proud.

"And to you, child." He replied, ignoring her deepening frown at the demeaning nickname. "If the council has no further need of us, I wish to test my apprentice." Shocked, she stepped back. A test? So soon? She knew nothing of him, surely he meant for them to at least talk?

"Your time is now your own Revan. Teach her well, and may the Force be with you." Her eyes shot to Master Vandar as he said it, before coming back to her new master. All the fear from that morning came back to her, and all of a sudden, she wasn't sure it would "all be okay."

"Meet me at the Training hall in three minutes. Dismissed." He said nothing more, striding out of the room without her. Left standing there before the council, all she could do was gape, before she jolted into action. Quickly bowing to the masters she rushed to the door, looking through so she could catch up with him.

He was nowhere to be seen. Fear gnawed at her stomach. Three minutes? That was barely enough time to make it to the hall, and more than that.. that was barely enough time to make it to _one of_ the halls... There were many such training halls in the enclave. He had not said which! Not wishing to waste any time she sprinted to the first hall, her heart pounding in her ears as she dodged past Knights and Masters, apologising to each without stopping. Reaching the first hall, she burst in, her grey eyes darting about. There were a number of people training. Younglings, doing kata, a few knights sparring. And some just watching. It took her a minute to scan the room before realising her own master was not present. Not even stopping to explain herself, she pushed past another Padawan and ran on, hoping to make it in time.

The second she burst into, and she knew she was late already. Her heart was pounding and her breath was ragged in her own ears. Exhausted, she placed an arm on the door frame for support, searching the room, praying. He wasn't here either. Tears prickled at her eyes as she utter unfairness of the situation settled in. He _hadn't_ told her where to go. _Hadn't_ waited for her. Now she was lost, without her master. She hadn't failed her first test. She had failed to even _show up_ for it!

Ten minutes. It took her a little over ten minutes to find him. Her skin was covered in sweat, and her new robes clung cruelly to her skin. Her throat ached after so much running, and even her teeth ached from gritting them and pushing herself on, despite the pain. And he was stood there. His eyes hard, and his lips down turned as he looked at his exhausted apprentice.

"Did you find it amusing to disregard my instructions apprentice?" He asked, the words slapping her in the face and making her stagger back. Surely he could see that she had tried!

"B-but Master! You didn't tell me which training room..." She pleaded, trying to hide her frustrated tears by wiping the sweat from her brow. "I ran through them all looking for you!" _I never stopped._ She wanted to say, _I kept looking even when it hurt. Isn't that enough?_

"Repeat the Jedi code for me." He ordered, not commenting on her state. She quickly gasped it out, eager to get something right with him.

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the force." She regained her breath and faced him, confident in herself once more.

"Correct. Why then, did you abandon it?"

The words froze her. Her confidence smashed aside like a wall made of paper. Despite herself she stepped back, drawing her hands to her breast as though he had slapped them. Her face twisted in pain.

"But... I didn't... I'd never-" She tried, before he cut her off.

"Upon my leaving you with instructions you attempted to find me. You had ignorance." He began, she looked at the floor between her feet, wishing she could vanish. "Instead of seeking knowledge. From either myself before I left, the masters, or anyone you passed on your way. You simply ran ahead. How many soldiers will you allow to die Bastila? How many families will lose their fathers because you led them into an ambush?"

She sniffed to herself, hoping he couldn't see the tears on her cheeks, or hear the small sobs she wanted to make. She hadn't killed anyone. And this talk of losing fathers made her remember her own. She would never kill someone's father! Why was he even suggesting that she had? Why was he so angry at her!

"You had no harmony. You were full of chaos, rushing through corridors, disrupting everyone you passed. You made stupid mistakes because you refused to calm down. Why were you so flustered?" There was a long pause before she realised he had asked her a question.

"I'm sorry master." She whispered, knowing he could hear her.

"I did not ask for an apology child. Answer my question." Hardening her eyes she looked at him, knowing he could see the tear trails on her face, but keeping her expression angry regardless.

"I wanted to impress you!" She accused. "I-I didn't have much time, I didn't want to let you down." She was embarrassed at having to admit it to him, but any such feelings she might have felt growing for him were crushed by his next words.

"You are a new Padawan Bastila. Nothing you could do, would impress me." Utterly ashamed and humiliated, she looked to the side, refusing to meet his gaze as her self-esteem was taken apart and murdered. Her eyes began to mist again, and she angrily bit on her lip to stem any more signs of weakness. "That came out wrong." He added, taking a step towards her before pausing.

"Listen... Bastila. You are one day going to be a leader, if I have my way. Your battle meditation would work well with a command role in times of war. You need to realise that every mistake you make, no matter how small. Will be measured in dead comrades. If I am cruel, it is only because I wish to spare you that."

She nodded to show she understood, and she did, a little bit. She would not forgive him the cruelty, and she couldn't hide the tears entirely. But she would at least accept that he had a reason. _Still_... this was unfair. She hadn't asked for this, and no one was dying now... and to say she could not impress him? She was trying her best!

"Do you understand apprentice?"

"Yes Master. I understand. I will seek to think all my actions through more carefully." If only to avoid the pain he would cause her emotionally.

"Good. You will report to the store rooms then, and sweep the corridors with the children tonight. That is your punishment." Her eyes shot to his, as her mouth opened in protest. Angrily she stamped one foot as she stared at him.

"But Master! What about training?" Her first day as a Padawan, and she was to spend it sweeping like a youngling? That wasn't fair! And punishment? As if the humiliation he had meted out to her right now was not enough?

"All actions have consequences child. This is yours."

It was official. Bastila Shan, hated her master.

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**Harshness! I know. Revan is being a total bastard, but he has his reasons, which will in time be revealed. **

**This will be a Bastila / Revan romance, but slow paced. Lol.**

**Please review if you enjoyed, it makes me update faster.**


	3. Punishment

**Well, thanks for the reviews. And as promised, the more I get, the faster I review. So here is chapter 3. Revan's character, and attitude are still moderately hidden, but you can see a little more of him here.**

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**Chapter 2 –** Punishment.

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Revan kept his expression still as he entered the room, nodding once to Master Zhar, who stood watching two young Padawans spar. Revan let his eyes fall on them for a moment before dismissing them, neither seemed to have any true passion for the spar, and though there was no passion for a Jedi. Having no desire to improve yourself? To push yourself further? Useless.

"How fares young Bastila, Knight Revan?" The master asked after a moment of silence. Revan stared at the Padawans until they stopped listening in to the conversation, and returned to their bout.

"She is serving her punishment at this moment." Revan responded, keeping his eyes on the two combatants. Both had holes in their stances and yet it seemed neither of them sought to take advantage of them. Had he ever been so incompetent, he wondered to himself. If so, he would not have stopped until he had improved himself. It was the reason he was where he was now.

"Punishment, Revan? What had she done to displease you so quickly?" The master's gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly. "I do hope you did not allow your … frustration... at the situation to weigh upon her."

"Not entirely." Revan replied, frowning as a sliver of guilt wormed its way through his being. No doubt the Master's intent. "I gave her a task where time was limited, and the stress high. I hope to teach her the importance of making quick, but intelligent, decisions. This will serve her well, if this battle meditation, is to be utilised fully."

"I see then... you intend to teach her to react in battle situations. Still, please try not to be so hard on her. Bastila is a strong child. But very fragile as well. She does not have any real friends in the Order." Revan nodded to show he understood, though he couldn't see why Master Zhar would tell him this. The social life of his Padawan was not generally something he should be interested in. Unless she was doing something wrong, of course. Still, the words made him pause. Perhaps he had been too harsh on her. Normally, to see a young girl cry... it would have upset him. Yet in his current situation, the weakness had only angered him.

Not a desirable trait in a Jedi. He sighed to himself. He'd been totally unfair on her, expecting her to instantly grasp his lessons, and then damaging her self esteem when she failed to meet his expectations. Still... it wasn't _all_ his fault.

"Has the Council re-considered my words. Or was this apprentice the cynical attempt to ground me, that I thought it was."

"The council here on Dantooine can make no decisions like that Revan. The Mandalorians are only raiding a few worlds on the outer rim at this time. The Republic should be able to handle it." The same empty platitudes that had been handed to him for days now. What if the Republic _couldn't_ handle it? What then. That was the question the councils refused to answer. Mobilising a force took an inordinate amount of time and work. There was no point deciding to help at the last moment, only to find they lacked the resources to even engage the enemy.

"And if it escalates? How many must die?" He hissed, unwittingly using the same words he had on young Bastila. And yet, she was but a child, and this was a Jedi master, who could make a difference. The guilt that he had berated her so unfairly, settled on his shoulders. He didn't need this. Not the apprentice, nor the guilt he felt if he mistreated her, it was stressing him out at a time when he was already stretched to breaking point.

Could no one understand this? Giving him an apprentice was unfair to both of them.

"The Force wills, such a situation will not occur Revan. Giving you an apprentice, was an attempt to balance you. To give you reason. Not to bind you to Dantooine. In fact, you may have more opportunity to leave _with_ her." Left unspoken was that this would only happen if Revan seriously trained her. Even if he could get her to a level which she could start accepting tasks outside the Enclave, and off Dantooine, the council would likely veto any that brought him near Mandalorian space.

"Perhaps I should find her then. I'm sure the embarrassment has been punishment enough."

"I will accompany you, Revan." Master Zhar didn't precisely state that he didn't trust Revan to do well by the girl, but the implication was there. Perhaps he deserved that, after letting his anger at the council, for refusing to step in against the Mandalorians, effect how he treated a young and lonely girl. Perhaps he should actually apologise to her, and _fix_ their broken relationship.

Perhaps.

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_I hate him._ She repeated in her mind for the thousandth time. An hour she had spent, on hands and knees, now cleaning one of the hallways. Her Padawan robes covered in dirt as if to mock her rank. So many people had given her strange looks. Others, knowing ones. It infuriated her, to have them building their own assumptions. No doubt rumours were already spreading about proud Bastila Shan. What stupidity must she have done to earn the ire of her master, on day one, no less.

It was worse when people she knew, passed her by. Young boys and girls, they would look at her and smile, not in a friendly manner. Sickeningly smug smiles, of those who hated her. So her attitude had not helped her make friends? Who needed them? She was a Jedi. Really, she had first wished to make friends. She'd clung to those who would speak with her, followed them in everything they did. But it had apparently never been enough. Be it her accent, or the amount of time she spent studying... even beating them in training was enough to alienate herself.

In an Order which based itself on calm and serenity, it was almost ironic how much pride and jealousy was going round. Bastila almost expected this was on purpose, to better show them the danger of such emotions. That, or the council assumed they would just grow out of it.

How could the council of given her to such a cruel man? She had learned under Master Vrook, and while his words stung, and his action was demeaning. He at least gave credit where it was due. This... this bastard. He tore apart all her defences and humiliated her, not only in private. But now before all her peers as well.

"Stupid Master... arrogant bastard... cruel idiot..." Her whispered monologue was interrupted as a bunch of booted feet came to a stop before her face. Irritated, she looked up to see who it was, only to let out a sigh of frustration.

"Well look what we have here?" A young male laughed, nodding down at her as though she were an insect on the floor. Behind him stood a girl and two other boys, giggling to themselves. "If it isn't miss high and mighty. Scrubbing the floors like a little youngling." She knew them by name and face. They'd once been her friends, until she outperformed them in academics. They too were Padawans now, and they'd taken no small pleasure in making her wait on them.

"What do you fools want? I'm busy." She demanded condescendingly. Trying to look unconcerned with them and superior. A difficult task when she was on her knees before them.

"Oh, us? Well we just wanted to make sure you were doing your job properly, that's all. Right guys?"

"Yeah, maybe you can clean my room after you're done." This time it was the girl who chipped in, looking down on Bastila with a cruel smile. Inwardly she seethed. These four were nothing compared to her Master, but they'd certainly do for venting her anger on.

"Your room needs cleaning Cynthia? Did you wet yourself again?" The laughing girl suddenly became an angry cat. Practically raising her hackles at Bastila's words. For a moment it looked like she might attack her, but the first man put an arm across her chest.

"Leave it Cynthia. I'm sure Bastila has enough menial work to do without our help, right brat?"

"You're giving me more work by standing here, and stinking up the air." She snapped, not willing to let her irritation go. "When was the last time you even bathed?" She added for good measure. Now it was the other three holding him back, and Bastila allowed herself to smile at her victory.

"You think you're so high and mighty? Little miss Padawan, the only reason you even got promoted was because of how much ass-kissing you did. I bet your parents would be so prou-" He didn't manage to get any further as Bastila had already leapt to her feet and struck him across the face with her palm. The loud sound echoing down the corridor even as the four of them leapt towards her.

"What is the meaning of this!" A quiet, but powerful voice demanded, causing them all to freeze in fear. At the end of the corridor, Master Zhar stood with his hands on his hips, a dangerous frown on his face. And next to him, to her horror, was her very own Master. Revan. How she wished she could die right now.

"Master Zhar I-" One of the boys began, before Revan stepped forward and silenced him with a wave.

"You." He commanded, pointing to Cynthia and looking into her eyes. "You _will_ tell me what occurred here." The words sounded heavy and pronounced, and to Bastila's surprise, Cynthia immediately answered.

"We began teasing Bastila about being forced to clean the corridors. We do not get on. She argued back, and we started getting angry. When Sanders insulted her last, she stood up and hit him." They all looked down at the explanation, unwilling to look either of the older men in the eyes.

"Bastila. Do you dispute this?" Her master questioned. Her small fists clenched at her side as she wondered what she could do. Should she mention that he had insulted her parents? And how touchy she was about them? But really, what justification would that be?

"No, master..." She was going to be in trouble either way, she could tell... She might as well be truthful about things.

"I am very disappointed in you all, you-" Master Zhar began, before Revan placed a hand on his arm.

"If you will allow me, Master Zhar? I believe a lesson would be useful here." He seemed to wait for The Twilek to nod, before he continued. "All of you. Follow me." Bastila kept herself near Master Zhar as they made their way down the corridor. She didn't know what her own master was planning, but she was sure it would be bad for her. After all, she had been told to clean the hallways, and instead started fighting.

Could he force her to become a youngling again? Demote her from being a Padawan... The very thought terrified her. She'd worked too hard to get where she was. To her mounting concern, he took them into a medium sized, round room. A sparring room.

"Beginning a fight is poor conduct for a Jedi." The tall man began, walking over to a wall and leaning on it. "However, sometimes confrontation is inevitable. At those times, you need to carefully consider words and actions. As well as consequences."

"Knight Revan, surely you do not-" Master Zhar began before pausing. The two of them seemed to have a conversation between themselves, simply by eye contact. Before the Twilek nodded his head. Bastila felt the claw of fear grab at her stomach again. The consequences of starting a fight? She could tell this was to be her next punishment...

"Set your lightsabres to a low power. This will cause pain, but no permanent injury. Bastila. You will face all four of these Padawans. In this situation, you started the physical fight, and so must finish it." Despite the situation, the hopelessness. The fear in her stomach was replaced with a heavy weight of acceptance, and anger against her master raged within her. How dare he? He wanted to set her up to be torn down, and there was not a thing she could do about it.

"Ha, this will be easy." Sanders taunted, activating his blue sabre and turning some dials on it. The light became a little dimmer, but it still hummed with power. The others seemed to agree, as they two activated their blades, swinging them to loosen their muscles. Bastila on the other hand looked to Master Zhar in concern. She held no illusions. These were all Padawans, Sanders could likely beat her on his own. Cynthia was about equal to her... against all four. This wasn't a spar... it would be a massacre.

"Just do your best Bastila." Zhar whispered to her, almost seeming upset that he could do little else for her. For one horrible moment, she even looked to her master, Revan. For help. He met her eyes and then nodded to the side, gesturing for her to begin. Feeling her breath quicken in fear, she stepped up to the matt.

"As the aggressor. Bastila has the first move on her side." Revan explained. "You cannot move, until she attacks. This is when the spar begins." She wondered if this could be a way out for her, if she walked away now, could they technically attack her? On the other hand, if she walked away from this, everyone would know her as a coward.

Deciding the best bet was for her to catch them off-guard and attempt to remove some from the fight early, she threw herself forward, striking harshly at the one boy who was still looking at Revan. Against all her expectations, the boy screamed out as the blade struck him, burning his skin and sending him to the floor. One down, three to go.

"Don't think that will work on the rest of us." Sanders gritted out, probing her defences with a quick lunge. She easily deflected the blow, but had to leap back as Cynthia slashed in from the other side. Timing her blow to coincide with when Sanders had already struck. The third circled round her out of her view. She tried to calm herself down so she could sense his attack, but she just couldn't feel the force like that... she couldn't concentrate, with the two in front of her also attacking.

Their sabres crashed for a few moments, Bastila constantly moving backwards in an attempt to get the rogue element before her, and in her vision. But he continued stay out of her sight as they fought. It wasn't until Sanders locked blades with her, something she should have known was foolish, that he struck.

Something hard and hot crashed into her shoulder from behind, making her skin cry out in protest even as her arms weakened. To her horror Sanders broke through her lack of concentration and brought his own sabre down across her breasts, making her yelp out in pain. Already defeated, and yet through the tears burning in her eyes. She wasn't even surprised to see Cynthia strike towards her unprotected face. A blow that would not only knock her out, but likely break her nose.

She didn't even have a chance to yell out as it hit, the hot pain flaring across her face as her neck snapped back. Her body span through the air and slammed into the matt floor. Her consciousness had fled mid-flight.

* * *

"Bastila can no longer fight, this match is over!" Revan shouted, interposing himself between his apprentice and the three victors. His purple sabre activated. His mouth was a firm tight line, all the better to hide the snarl behind. He hadn't foreseen that blow coming, and would have stepped in if he had. How stupid of him to have expected these children to stick to the rules. In a lightsabre spar, you continued until someone was struck. Damn it. Now his apprentice was injured, and he, angry.

"You fought well Bastila." He whispered uselessly as he knelt down, picking her up. She weighed very little and was sprawled listlessly across his arms, her head lolling back as some blood streamed from her nose. The feeling of her, the sight of her, made his arms shake in rage. How dare they?

"Master Zhar, please take her to the infirmary. I will continue the lesson here." The master was only too happy to take Bastila from him, cradling her across his chest as he hurried out. Revan idly wondered had it been another injured Padawan, if Zhar would have stayed to demand what Revan's _lesson_ would entail. Their order certainly was a hypocritical one, to show such favouritism.

"You need to consider words, especially if they lead to violence." Revan began again, loudly to the now worried children. "Often it's best to diffuse the situation. If you are outnumbered, you can be beaten down easily." He wasn't angry that she had started such a fight... no... In fact, had she been able to defeat them, he would have considered her methods apt. As it was, she needed to learn only to resort to violence if it was unavoidable, _and_ only if she would win. The ends justified the means, this would teach her that starting fights based on pride, or a short temper, did not lead to good results. A Jedi knew when to feign weakness, and back away.

"On the other hand... even when a person is alone. You need to think of who they might know, if they have friends nearby. Or who might simply step in to aid them." He drew a _second_ sabre from his robes. Playing with them for a moment before igniting them both. One was purple, now dimmed from lower power. The other was a dull green.

"Hypothetically you provoked a single girl to combat. Consider me the older brother who angrily came to defend her honour. It will happen more often than you might expect on many lawless worlds. Many will not even confront you such as I. But might come with gangs, ambushes, blasters... You could even find a bomb stowed on your ship." He stood before the now nervous three Padawans. The fourth still unconscious where she had struck him down.

"You may attack first." Revan offered. Standing straight with both sabres held loosely at his side. A Knight was generally beyond the skill of a single Padawan. And yet Padawans _did_ spar against Knights, and it wasn't that unusual for them to win some of those bouts. Usually against newer Knights, of course... but it did happen. Three on one, was surprisingly good odds for the Padawans, against a Knight who looked quite young.

Revan knew these thoughts would be running through their minds. And as the three youths spread out and began to circle him, he let the first small smile in a long time, come to his lips.

* * *

**Hm well. I wrote this twice. Once with Bastila not being knocked out, and him carrying her. But it felt a little too love-dovey for so early on. So Bastila gets to suffer. Rawr!**

**If you liked it, please review. It makes me update faster. :D**


	4. Accusation

**Never let it be said that I don't listen to the opinions of my reviewers. Initially I'd fully intended to skip the fight scene, just let it be, that Revan roughed them up a little. But quite a few people wanted to see a little punishment not levelled on Bastila. So. Whoop-de-do. Plan altered. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3 –** First Lessons

* * *

It was impossible to say what was the first sensation to return to her. Though the transition from unconsciousness, back to the land of the living, was undoubtedly a slow one. For the person experiencing it, it almost seems instantaneous. Her eyes opened, blearily, as bright light offended her vision. A smell, all too sterile and clean assaulted her nostrils, and the irritating beeping of nearby machinery or droids, filled her ears. What was certainly last to reach her though, was her own mental faculties. For she found herself completely confused, and a little scared, of this room that was not her own. It wasn't until her eyes adjusted to see white walls, and her memory of the fight came back to her, that she calmed down.

She had lost. Badly. And to her utmost disgust, she had no one to blame but herself for starting that fight. And of course her Master, for not stopping it. A heavy feeling settled in her heart as she wondered if he had enjoyed seeing her humbled so. Did he really hate her _that_ much?

"Ah you're awake young one." A gentle woman's voice cooed, drawing her attention as a yellow skinned twilek came up to her, feeling her forehead and tilting her face so she could look into Bastila's eyes. "Can you follow my finger with your eyes?" She then held up a single finger and moved it back and forth, watching Bastila's eyes as they moved from left to right. "Perfect, you seem okay. Does your nose hurt?"

Her nose? The memory of it cracking flew into her mind and her hands quickly moved to feel for the feature. They were stopped halfway by the doctor however. Immediate fear flashed through her as she realised she could not even feel anything from her face.

"I-I can't feel my face." She stuttered, wondering if there had been nerve damage, or worse!

"It's fine dear. I have you on pain killers, so you won't be able to. Your nose was broken, but I've reset it as best I can. Don't touch it for now though, it looks the same as it always has." The young girl nodded as she laid back on the bed, letting her arms fall to her sides again. Her grey eyes looked at the empty white ceiling as she let out a deep sigh.

"Will I be able to leave today?" She asked, not wishing to be confined to the room with nothing to occupy her time.

"You will be fine to leave in an hour. Your friends won't be so lucky though, they'll need to stay here for at least another day or two." Her eyes sharpened in confusion. Her friends? Whoever was the woman talking about? Bastila _had_ no friends, and certainly none who had been injured.

"Oh." Bastila hedged, wondering if she could find out who it was. "What happened to them?" The twilek looked at her confused, before understanding crossed her features and she smiled.

"Ah, of course. Master Zhar brought you here first, so you must have already been knocked out. The Padawans you were training with were all injured in the same spar. Quite badly I might add... you all take sparring far too seriously." Bastila laughed nervously as she nodded in acceptance, her mind a whirl inside. Sanders? Cynthia? They'd all been injured? Not by her, in their spar, that was for sure. She remembered enough to know she'd been soundly beaten... and if Master Zhar had left to bring her here?

Revan?

Could it? No, surely not... what reason would he have to harm them so... actually, now that she thought on it. Maybe he simply hated everyone, and wanted to hurt others since she had been taken away... But could such a Jedi exist with the council here? Surely any abusive tendencies would have been picked up by now, so it couldn't be that. But if they _were_ injured... he was the only one who could have done it. The question was, why?

Revan sighed to himself as he set down a holovid recording of a recent news broadcast. Another skirmish with the Mandalorians, few dead, but the signs of encroaching war were becoming clearer. This wasn't small raiding parties, study of their culture had shown that they didn't believe in piracy... those loyal to their kingdom, anyway. And these were too many, too quickly, to be all rogues.

Putting down the disk he winced at a small pain in his arm, smiling ruefully as he looked at the small burn on the inside of his left forearm. That would teach him to be so aggressive against those he thought were already beaten. If it had been a real duel, he would have lost an arm. They, of course, would have lost so much more.

* * *

_Revan allowed the younger woman to circle him, content to let her believe she had the advantage because she was out of his line of sight. Unlike a freshly minted Padawan, he had discipline enough to calm himself and feel the force, even under extreme pressure. Being attacked by three children with practice sabres barely counted as exercise, let alone fear... _

_The main boy attacked head on, somehow content to try and overpower him like he had his student. Not at all concerned with the second sabre he kept at his side. Unwilling to let the lesson end so soon, Revan didn't capitalise on the mistake, instead locking blades with his right blade, while keeping his left slack. The boy pressed down on him, two hands against one, and despite the age difference, it was enough to strain him. Not used to the underhanded tricks real fighters and Jedi learned however, he was completely shocked when Revan planted a boot in his stomach. _

_Unprepared, but not helpless. These kids had been trained to fight, and all their muscles were tense, as such what might have been a debilitating and winding blow to a normal person, merely left a bruise and sore muscles here. It was enough to have him hang back a little, trying to soothe his midriff with one hand. _

_A blow came in from behind him, a tell-tale gasp from the girl giving her away before even the force could. Spinning roughly Revan used both sabres, one high on her blade, the other low. Sending her sabre spinning cruelly from her hands as she let out a sudden scream of shock. Turning back, he let her scramble for her blade as he parried the final boy's attack, twisting his sabre around the boy's hand to disarm him. The blue training sabre spinning towards the ceiling as the boy stared dumbly at it. Sighing at such stupidity, Revan quickly elbowed the boy in the chest, making him stagger back and gasp. His clenched fist hit the boy a moment later, striking the side of his face, near the temple. He crumpled to the floor, the blow robbing him of consciousness in an instant. _

_Revan negligently deflected the blade as it completed its arc and fell down on him. Making sure to knock it away from the downed boy. _

_The distraction had allowed the girl to reclaim her sabre, and the other guy to settle himself. The two of them now standing side by side, determined and yet fearful expressions on their faces. Revan could respect that. Fear was present in all people. And yet facing it head on, even when one could flee, showed courage. _

_He couldn't show mercy however. A true lesson learned through pain, was one that stuck with the learner forever. Strengthening them and tempering them like hard steel. They would be better for the experience. _

_Revan chose to be the aggressor this time, striking forwards as they leaped apart, both to dodge his blades and keep him between them. Despite their youth, their team work was admirable, and it was likely these two would serve together when they graduated. Bonds forged early on could last for many decades. He leapt towards the girl as he landed, leaving the boy chasing after him as Revan lightly probed her, landing swift but gentle blows that she could conceivably parry. Her face tense, she held her own for a few seconds before the sabre cut through a hole in her defence, scoring a hit across her shoulder. Quickly ending it, Revan slashed another across her right wrist, and kneed her in the solar plexus. Letting her crumple to the floor._

_"Cynthia! You bastard!" The last screamed, giving in to anger as no Jedi should and lashing out at Revan. The knight wasn't one to accuse him of the dark side however. Knowing that anger was inherent in all people, and learning how debilitating it could be now, he would seek to control it more later. The boy's blows came in hard and fast, but unrefined. He didn't follow up on holes Revan showed, too lost in wanting to smash Revan's face in. _

_He let it continue for a little while, content to let the boy wear himself out. When he left an opening too wide however, Revan felt he had to take it, slipping underneath the blade, and striking the boy across the chest. _

_To his amazement however, it had been a trap, and he let out a grunt as the boy's blade scored the inside of his arm. Triumph crossed the boy's face for all of a second, before being replaced by horror. Revan's instincts and muscle memory, repressed since he was fighting children, quickly kicked in. Flicking his sabre against the boy's side, disarming him with the second, and then slashing across the neck, burning it and also knocking the boy out. All of it in little more than a second. _

* * *

It had been somewhat inexcusable of him to do that to young Padawans. Not the duel itself, nor the injuries. But to lose control for a moment, and believe them an enemy? Even a practice sabre could kill if he crushed the windpipe. It was fortunate he had managed to hold back his strength a little.

Still. Lesson learned. Both for him, and them. Just because they were untrained and foolish, was no excuse to underestimate them. It was refreshing. He would have to punish himself for that. All mistakes needed punishment, so you knew never to repeat them. The immediate pain was not enough, that was a consequence. Instead he resigned himself to going to the training halls and working on his sabre forms until his arms ached and his breath came out in rattled gasps.

He was somewhat surprised however, when he reached there, to see his own young Padawan, practising a kata from form 3. Not perfectly. She was too rigid and not relaxed enough, but it was good that she was focusing on such a defensive form, especially after being beaten so. He wondered idly if it was an effort to avoid pain in the future, or if she had actually worked out the best way to fight multiple enemies was to wear them out before striking?

"Good morning, Bastila." He greeted, keeping his voice cordial and almost friendly. Lessons, failed or otherwise, and their accompanying punishments, were things to come and go. She had made a mistake, and served her punishment. There was no need to carry on about it.

She unfortunately seemed to think otherwise.

"M-master!" She gasped, stepping back in obvious discomfort and a little fear, before stopping herself. "I... didn't expect to see you here."

"Nor I, you." He replied with a small frown crossing his features. This fear certainly wouldn't do. Not if she wanted to learn anything from him. "If you are already healed, perhaps we should begin a lesson." He added as an afterthought. Not honestly having expected her to be up and about today. Perhaps she had not been struck so badly.

"... Of course." She agreed after a moment too long.

"Bastila." He sighed out, not enjoying the girl's hesitance, and deciding to tackle it head on. "What do you think the reason for me making you fight them was?"

* * *

The reason? Bastila wondered to herself. Because he was a bastard? Because he disliked her attitude, thought she was too proud? Enjoyed humbling her? All of them were possible, and yet she wasn't going to admit she was having such thoughts about this man. Not in his hearing, anyway.

"I think..." She hedged, trying to gather anything from his expression. A hopeless task. "To punish me for starting a fight. When I should have been following your earlier instructions, and cleaning the halls." She'd served such punishments before. Her and every other child who had entered the halls. There were few excuses for skipping chores. She looked away from him almost petulantly after she had finished, keeping her gaze on the wall to her left.

"That's... not the reason at all." He added after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "A shame you haven't realised the lesson yet, but no worries. The path to success is paved with many mistakes." The words may have been nice but they lit an anger in her. Mistakes? A shame she hadn't noticed? How patronising could he be?

"Well tell me what I did wrong then! Tell me what the lesson was. I can't read your mind!" She hissed out, her grey eyes widening a moment later as she slapped her hands over her mouth. Oh, she was a dead woman now. You didn't snap back to Master Zhar, or even Master Vandar. But Knight Revan! She was a dead woman.

"It would be easier if I told you, wouldn't it?" He muttered as he looked at the ceiling. "But I want you to grow into a Jedi who doesn't _need_ to be told what to do. I won't always be there to give you answers, so you need to find them for yourself." She huffed as she looked away. He wouldn't always be there to give her answers? Well then, that would be no different to right now! She wasn't _getting_ any answers anyway!

"Well what about the three you left in the medbay! You broke Cynthia's arm, and Sanders will need work on his throat so he can even talk again." She'd thought herself in a bad situation until she had heard what had happened to them. He met her indignant gaze for a moment before sighing and scratching the top of his head.

"Though I don't mean this in a bad way, that's _your_ fault." Her eyes snapped open as she stumbled back a little.

"What!" Her voice and mind cried out at the same time, drawing curious eyes to their conversation. "What the _hell_ does _that_ mean! I certainly didn't do that damage to them." The one she had taken down had just been knocked out...

"What's done is done. I see you're working on form 3? Do you believe it suits you?" The change in topic caught her off-guard for a moment. Did it suit her? What did that mean? It was a defensive form that was useful for blocking and parrying attacks. Was this another test for her?

"I think it's good enough." She hedged out uncertainly. He nodded in response but didn't say anything further. "What? Do you think it's a bad choice?" Why couldn't he just tell her?

"It's not my place to choose. All the forms are balanced and adequate." He activated his sabre then, a green blade that he slashed before him, the power was set down. "Assume form 3, and keep to it. Let's test your reflexes." She gulped as she fumbled into position, not missing the small frown on his face, and hating herself for having been the cause for it. She had been a promising initiate, why was she so inept now?

His blows came in slow at first, for a moment she thought he was patronising her, but he soon increased his tempo, and she realised he was attempting to find her threshold. The blows weren't particularly strong, he not trying to enter a lock or deter her blade, simply striking against it with a crack and bouncing back to strike somewhere else. It continued for a little while, before his speed picked up again, stressing her a little as the light nearly struck her a number of times. Sweat was beginning to interfere with her vision too as her breathing became harsher. She wanted to shout at him to stop it but instead kept going. A few seconds later she faltered and his blade came through. She let out a shriek of fear.

Only to feel nothing. Cracking an eye open she looked around to see his blade had stopped before hitting her, and quite a few people were giving her bemused looks for her outburst.

Her cheeks burned as shame filled her. That bastard!

"That was good." He complimented, banishing her anger for a moment as a smile came to her lips almost unbidden. She'd done well? The thought that she had pleased him, warmed her more than she was willing to admit. "Let's try some aggression this time, attack me, and I will only defend." He raised his sabre to a vertical position, mimicking her form 3 position to show he was intending to use it also.

Bastila felt a thrill of victory enter her. If she could hit him, it would vindicate all her feelings towards him. She'd finally be able to get some revenge for the torment and doubt he filled her with. Taking a breath to steady her already shaky breathing, she struck at his face. As expected he blocked it, but she kept attacking, purposely keeping herself a little slower than she actually was. One on one, she was sure he was her superior, but if she could convince him that she was stuck in a certain rhythm, he would hopefully mimic it, and then be caught off-guard.

A simple plan. She struck at him constantly, timing her blows so they were a few milliseconds apart and almost ordered. Sweat was beading across her brow again, but she had to wait for the right moment. As the minutes stretched on, and her muscles screamed in protest, she triumphantly noticed some sweat beading on his brow. Her eyes followed the single droplet of water as it trailed a way down his sculpted brow, tracing his eyebrow, and dripping down into one eye. He reflexively shook his head to rid it, and she struck.

To her irritation he deflected her easily, not looking at her as he did so, and diverting her to the side. Her frustration soon turned to fear however as she buckled under the force of her own attack. His having deflected, instead of blocking, leaving her over extended and tripping towards the floor. She his the ground hard, her face hitting against the back of the hand she had used to cushion herself. A flare of pain shot across her face, followed by a sob of pain from her lips. She curled into a small ball as she sobbed uncontrollably, trying to stifle the flow of blood that was bubbling from between her fingers.

"Bastila? What's wrong?" He asked in a concerned voice. A firm hand settled on her shoulder as she was pulled up into a sitting position. She kept her hands over her nose as she tried to keep all the blood inside. Her vision was blurry.

"You broke my dose!" She accused through her tears. "Id hurts!" He pried her hands away relentlessly, and she quickly clutched his shoulders, tightly scrunching his robes up as he inspected her.

"You should have told me you were injured, Bastila." He replied, probing her nose with his fingers, causing her to gasp in protest and grip his shoulder tighter. So it was all her fault again!

"I thought you'd hab checked od me!" At least come to see how badly his own student was hurt... He would have cared that much, right? She moaned in distress as he gripped her nose gently and moved it from side to side.

"You're right. I _am_ sorry Bastila. That was inexcusable of me. Now, I need to reset this... are you ready?" She nodded, not at all ready, but unwilling to delay it. Her breathing quickened as she gripped him. "Okay... on three."

"One... tw-" Crack! She whined furiously in pain as her back straightened and she tried to writhe out of his grip, his firm hands keeping her still even as he legs kicked in protest. After a few seconds the pain ended and she felt herself gasping as she leaned her face into his shoulder, staining his robes.

"That... wasn't three..." She breathed out, not wanting to move out of his body. Honestly, she didn't want to see the look on everyone's faces around them.

"It wasn't." He agreed, stroking her back to try and soothe her, her tears were still coming but she had quieted. "Sorry for lying. It's back to your room with you, you need to rest. Training will resume in two days." She nodded against him, and made to step back, only to gasp in surprise when he straightened and she was lifted up with him! "The least I can offer you is a life to your room."

She nodded as she settled down. Not willing to admit that she enjoyed the feeling. It reminded her of when her father had carried her around. The memories were vague, and she had been a lot smaller then. But he had always been picking her up, making her squeal in pleasure as he ambushed her and snatched her up, tickling her.

Lost in a mixture of pain and memories, she didn't even notice when she snuggled into her Master's chest and drifted asleep. Remembering a better time, with her loving father.

* * *

**Well, that's the end of that chapter. I don't know ANYTHING about lightsabre forms, so forgive me if I'm wrong. If anyone does want to post a review with a brief mention of each, I'd love that. I'd quote you in chapter's AN's. :D**

**On a side note. I'm wondering how many people understand the lessons Revan is trying to teach in this fic! If you think you have spotted a lesson, then tell me. I'll reveal them in next chapters... and... if someone gets the most? Who knows... maybe I'll make a character with their name, or a name of their choice if their pen name is unsuitable... Add it into the fic.**

**Review please! :D Thanks for reading all!**


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